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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Something Will Turn Up, by David Mason This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Something Will Turn Up Author: David Mason Illustrator: Brotman Release Date: January 7, 2008 [EBook #24189] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOMETHING WILL TURN UP *** Produced by Greg Weeks, Geetu Melwani and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net * * * * * Transcriber note: This etext was produced from Analog February 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. * * * * * Something Will Turn Up by David Mason Err ... maybe it had to do with this being a non-Parity universe, perhaps? Some things can't be simply inverted, after all.... Illustrated by Brotman [Illustration] "You, Mr. Rapp?" Stanley Rapp blinked, considering the matter. He always thought over everything very carefully. Of course, some questions were easier to answer than others. This one, for instance. He had very few doubts about his name. "Uh," Stanley Rapp said. "Yes. Yes." He stared at the bearded young man. Living in the Village, even on the better side of it, one saw beards every day, all shapes and sizes of beard. This one was not a psychoanalyst beard, or a folk singer beard; not even an actor beard. This was the scraggly variety, almost certainly a poet beard. Mr. Rapp, while holding no particular prejudice against poets, had not sent for one, he was sure of that. Then he noticed the toolcase in the bearded young man's hand, lettered large LIGHTNING SERVICE, TV, HI-FI. "Oh," Stanley said, nodding. "You're the man to fix the TV set." "You know it, Dad," the young man said, coming in. He shut the door behind him, and stared around the apartment. "What a wild pad. Where the idiot box, hey?" The pleasantly furnished, neat little apartment was not what Mr. Rapp had ever thought of as a "wild pad." But the Village had odd standards, Mr. Rapp knew. Chacun a son gout, he had said, on moving into the apartment ten year
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